


reddie oneshots

by funkyfresh



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Adult Losers Club (IT), Losers Club (IT) Friendship, Teenage Losers Club (IT), a bunch of random things that were in my brain please enjoy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:07:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28241388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/funkyfresh/pseuds/funkyfresh
Summary: i'm bad at sticking to a single story, so here are some reddie and losers club oneshots!!
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	1. customer service (teenage reddie)

**Author's Note:**

> age: high school
> 
> richie and eddie definitely visit each other at their dumb little teenage jobs and it's cute

“Did you find everything alright today?” Richie smiled at the customer while he scanned each piece of scrapbook paper she had placed on the counter.

“Fine, thanks,” she replied blankly, eyes on her phone. 

Richie tried to make friendly conversation as he rang her up. “What’s the plan? What are you making?”

She didn’t respond.

Richie wanted to punch her in her botox-infused face for ignoring his impeccable customer service, but he held his cool, keeping the snarky comments to himself with remarkable restraint.

_We sell packs of paper. What kind of evil bitch feels the need to make me scan twenty-five individual pieces of paper?_

_I hope she gets one paper cut for every god-forsaken piece of paper she’s making me ring up._

“Do you have any coupons today?” Richie asked as he finished scanning, now pushing random buttons on the cash register to appear busy as his boss passed by. If she got the slightest inclination that he wasn’t totally occupied, she’d make him recover the beading section between customers. Torture. When he got hired at the craft store, Richie hoped it would be a little more “helping people find fabrics that match” and less “making sure every single pack of buttons is in the right spot and reaching yarn on the top shelf for withered old ladies.”

“I don’t think so, no,” the customer muttered, inserting her card into the chip reader without even looking. She didn’t even notice when it began to beep.

Richie pulled her receipt from the printer. “You can remove your card, ma’am.”

She did so in silence, picking up her bag and ignoring the receipt Richie was holding out to her.

“Have a nice day,” he said, his eyes following her to the door.

“Uh-huh.”

As the automatic doors closed behind her, Richie sighed. The store was practically empty. Who buys craft supplies on a Monday evening? Thus far in his shift, he’d encountered a woman looking to reupholster her living room furniture, a group of loud teen girls that wandered for an hour without buying anything, and a man looking for an item Richie repeatedly told him was out of stock. 

Exciting stuff. 

Richie rubbed his eyes and took out his phone. Only two more minutes until his break. _Hallelujah_. He leaned against the back wall, scanning the aisles and smiling when he realized no customer could possibly approach the checkout before he broke for dinner. 

That is, until, he heard footsteps in the queuing area. 

He heard footsteps, but he didn’t see anyone. 

_Is someone… crouching behind the candy display?_

“Hello?” Richie stood up straight, wary of the croucher, and completely prepared to be robbed at gunpoint for the whopping sixty-four ninety-five in the cash register. 

However, with an insufficient “boo,” it was Eddie Kaspbrak who popped up from behind the Red Vines, grinning wildly.

“Jesus, Eds,” Richie sighed, smiling, and leaning forward against the counter. “I was ready to put the money in the bag.” 

Eddie approached the checkout, browsing the candy as he walked. “Not yet. I passed the burglar on the way in, though. He’ll be by shortly. What’s your favorite candy again?”

Richie smiled. “Surprise me.”

Eddie slapped a box of Junior Mints onto the counter.

“Ah, yes, the worst candy in existence,” Richie mused as he scanned the barcode. 

“Shut up, they’re great.” Eddie leaned across the counter, giving Richie a gentle kiss. 

“You like those chocolate covered toothpaste balls?” 

“I do, and I don’t trust your taste. You like Whoppers.”

“Yeah, The Original Malted Milk Ball! Trademark!”

Eddie laughed, propping his elbows on the counter as he handed Richie a five-dollar bill. He’d never get tired of seeing Richie at work: his all-black outfit draped with a crappy canvas apron, his nametag crooked on his chest. “I’m here to take you to dinner,” he declared. 

“My break’s only thirty minutes long,” Richie replied with a chuckle as he counted out Eddie’s change. “You think that’s enough time to properly wine and dine me?”

“There’s a Pizza Hut across the street, right?”

“Sold!” Richie slapped some change into Eddie’s hand and hopped the counter, heading off to the back room. Eddie followed, weaving through aisles of paint, sewing patterns, and crochet hooks, a smile on his lips as he waved to Richie’s manager. He was a frequent visitor and the store manager had come to expect Eddie at the end of all Richie’s shifts. 

Eddie always looked forward to visiting Richie. No matter how much complaining he did about customers and schedules and coworkers, Eddie would still envy him. He wanted a job so badly, but his mother wouldn’t let him apply anywhere. He needed to “preserve his youth” and not worry himself with “meaningless work.” She’d rather he prepare for his _real_ career. What that might be, Eddie had no idea. But according to Sonia Kaspbrak, it wasn’t a job at the craft store. Or the record shop. Or the ice cream parlor, the library, the florist, or any other establishment he expressed interest in applying to. 

Eddie leaned against the wall as Richie headed into the back room. He returned a moment later, apronless and with his keys. 

“And off we go?” Richie took Eddie’s hand in his, leading him to the store’s exit. 

\-----

new message: eddie spaghetti

1:22 am

eddie spaghetti: RICH

richie: EDS

eddie: GUESS WHAT

richie: WHAT

eddie: I GOT IT

richie: WHICH ONE

eddie: ?

richie: which std did you get?

eddie: shut up i got the job!!

richie: oooh the job? i’ve never even heard of that one! very exotic, who r u fucking?

eddie: i hate you so much you’re supposed to be excited dick

richie: i kid i kid i’m so happy for you!! when do you start?

eddie: tomorrow! 

richie: very cool! look at you go!

eddie: well i guess today bc it’s after midnight

richie: nerd

richie: but you’re right so i have to go to sleeeeeeeep i have to go to my aunts house and watch her dumb kids all day from the ass crack of dawn to like dinner

eddie: ooooof okay goodnight! i love you!

richie: i love you too sleep tight mwah

\-----

It wasn’t Richie’s fault that he had to babysit on Eddie’s first day of work. It shouldn’t matter regardless, he had no obligation to visit. However, after all the convincing and reasoning and PowerPoint presentations it had taken for Sonia Kaspbrak to allow her son a job at the local consignment store, Eddie had hoped Richie would be there at the end of his shift.

Whatever. 

He was decked out in his new uniform: black dress pants, blue polo shirt, snazzy new nametag reading “Edward.” His nervous yet excited energy was taking his mind off Richie’s absence. He needed to focus on what his supervisor was saying.

“Let’s give it a try, shall we?” The middle-aged manager who had introduced herself as Brenda walked around to the front of the counter, picking up a small item and letting Eddie practice ringing her up. He scanned her item, processed her payment, and bagged the purchase with ease. She commended him, leaving him in charge of the register and telling him to call for help if he needed any assistance. 

A second-hand clothing store on a Sunday morning isn’t exactly bursting with life. However, for his first day, the trickle of customers was perfect for Eddie’s acclimation. As the day went on, his hesitance lessened and he felt himself slip into what Richie always described as his “alter ego”– his customer service persona. But after almost five hours of ringing up customers, Eddie was officially pooped. He wanted nothing more than to slink out the door to the Dairy Queen across the plaza and a quick check of his watch revealed he had only five more minutes before he could do just that.

“Excuse me, sir? Is there a fitting room where I can try these on?”

Eddie looked up to see a familiar face grinning wildly. It was Richie, holding up a pair of atrociously ugly leopard-print yoga pants.

“Rich!”

Eddie scrambled around the counter for a hug. Richie wrapped his arms around Eddie, laughing at the excitement he’d elicited. 

“It is I,” he declared. “And I am here, my liege, to escort you to… her royal highness of lactose.”

“What?” Eddie pulled away, looking up at Richie in confusion.

“I’m taking you to Dairy Queen, numb-nuts.”

“Oh,” Eddie smiled, going in for another hug. “I thought you had to babysit!”

Richie put his hands on Eddie’s shoulders, shifting him back to look in his eyes. “I was lying to you. Because I’m a mean, mean guy.”

Eddie smiled. “The meanest.”

“Wait, I can redeem myself,” Richie assured him, pulling a box from his hoodie pocket. Junior Mints.

“Yes,” Eddie hissed, taking the box and opening it eagerly. He tilted the container, pouring some of the contents into his hand. However, the book certainly didn’t match the cover. 

Richie snickered as Eddie stared at the Whoppers in his hand. 

Eddie glared up at him. “Was it worth it?”

Richie’s chuckle had turned into a belly-laugh. “Try one!”

“Try this,” Eddie retorted, hiding a smile as he returned to his place behind the counter, flipping Richie off.

“Eddie!”

Eddie’s head shot up and he caught his manager’s eyes from across the store. _Shit_.

“Uh… he’s my b- uh, friend, ma’am. Not a customer.”

She sighed and returned to her work. Eddie felt his face go red as Richie covered his mouth, containing the wild laughter that was vying to escape. 

“You’re gonna get me fired,” Eddie groaned, checking his watch again. Time to clock out. He logged out of the register, unclipped his nametag from his shirt, and placed it below the counter as Brenda had shown him. He walked back around the counter, taking the yoga pants from Richie’s hand and replacing them on the shelf before waving goodbye to his new boss. 

“You’ve inspired me,” Richie mused as Eddie took his hand and led him to the door. “The ‘Get Eddie Kaspbrak Fired’ project. Sounds fun.”

“Don’t you dare.”

\------


	2. the teachers’ lounge (adult reddie)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> richie and eddie are teachers at the same school. richie’s class is loud and obnoxious. eddie’s class is calm and doesn’t need disruptions. mr. kaspbrak and mr. tozier hate each other, right?

Richie, known to his students as Mr. Tozier, was the fun teacher. Science was everybody’s favorite class and there wasn’t a kid at PS 208 who couldn’t pick out Mr. Tozier’s jaunty footsteps and characteristic “What’s cracking, Mr. K?” as he walked through the halls. 

His classroom was an extension of his personality. Funky posters filled the walls, terrible music played as the students entered, and his labs were never boring. Every year on the first day of school, he informed the students that, yes, he _could_ make meth if he wanted to, and, no, he wouldn’t teach them how. His personality engaged even the most unmotivated of students and made them question if they actually hated school. How could anyone hate Mr. Tozier?

There was one exception.

Mr. Kaspbrak hated Mr. Tozier. As impossible as it seemed, there was someone on planet Earth who didn’t love Richie’s boisterous, wild lectures and hallway antics. _Getting water from the water fountain doesn’t require staring through my classroom window for a full minute_ , Eddie often thought. Richie loved to torment him and Eddie loved giving him the cold shoulder. Nothing was more satisfying than seeing Mr. Tozier’s pout after Eddie condemned his loud music during silent reading time. Yes, it was satisfying. Not cute. Eddie assured himself that it wasn’t cute, no matter how his brain tried to trick him. 

Eddie was an English teacher and a good one at that. His class could get a little boring, but he read to the students with such passion that it motivated them to crack a book themselves. His room boasted an impressive library that loaned freely to students, whether they took Mr. Kaspbrak’s class or not. His walls were quite bare as far as posters went, but he needed the space to hang up every card a student had ever written him, every newspaper article about a student of his scoring the winning goal, and every paper that had received a 100% for all to enjoy. He wore collared shirts, khaki pants, and a bowtie every day without fail. Across the hall from Richie and his loud sweaters, the two were a stark contrast. 

Richie’s class consisted of experiments, transition-filled slideshows, and the occasional Bill Nye episode if there was extra time. Eddie’s consisted of grammar and vocabulary, with silent reading if there was extra time. They had undoubtedly different styles. However, Eddie could never put his finger on why he was so drawn to Mr. Tozier. He didn’t have a crush, that was for sure. That’s what he told himself every time he found himself looking across the hall at Richie’s impassioned lectures for a second too long and every time he caught himself thinking about what it might be like to look into Richie’s pretty eyes for more than a fleeting moment in the teacher’s lounge. 

\-----

“Alright, gang. Allow me to demonstrate. Then, you can get to work.” Richie stood in front of his class, preparing to show the class their experiment of the day. He donned his safety goggles. 

“The first step,” he began, “is always to protect yourself. Goggles and an apron.” The class chuckled as he put on his apron reading _Kiss The Cook_. It had been a gift from a former student and he wore it with the same frequency with which Eddie wore his bowties. 

Richie picked up a few bottles of colorful chemicals. Were they colorful by nature? No. However, Mr. Tozier had been known to mix unnecessary food coloring into his experiments for what he called “pizzazz.”

Referencing the instructions on the board, Richie measured and combined the elements on the table. His class watched, enamored with their teacher, and excited to try the experiment themselves.

“Now,” Mr. Tozier said, “we need to heat this bad boy up.” He turned the bunsen burner’s gas valve, then flicked his lighter and lit a flame. 

“Me make fire,” Richie grunted in his best caveman voice. The students chuckled. Richie went back to his instruction, talking with his hands as he typically did. “Once you light your burner, you’re going to grab the beaker you just mixed your stuff up in. Then-”

“Mr. Tozier?”

Richie nodded at the student. “Yeah, Ty?” 

_God, is it hot in here?_

“Mr. Tozier, your sweater is on fire.”

\-----

Eddie leaned over the shoulder of one of his students, scanning her short story. “This is looking really great, Maddie. Make sure you watch out for those dangling participles, though.”

“Right. Thanks, Mr. Kaspbrak.”

“Sure thing. I’m excited to see what you come up with.” Eddie moved on to the student beside her. He loved teaching, obviously, but he also loved reading what his students wrote. Young minds never failed to impress him with their creativity. He hated grading. He hated denouncing someone’s hard work. Unless it was obvious they hadn’t actually tried, Eddie was lenient and allowed for imaginative expression in his class. 

His silent writing session was soon interrupted by a commotion from across the hall. Eddie suppressed a groan. _What now, Richie?_ After two years of working in close proximity, Eddie was almost used to the science teacher’s antics. He vividly remembered when Richie had taught an anatomy unit and decided that, to ease the tension of describing body parts, he’d have his entire class scream “penis” for the whole hall to hear. 

Regardless, the commotion hadn’t stopped. It was muffled, but it sounded like screaming. _What could be going on?_ Was Richie trying to scientifically demonstrate his lung capacity? If so, mission accomplished.

“Hang tight, guys, I’ll be right back.” Eddie made a beeline for the door, peeved. He power-walked across the corridor and pushed into the science classroom. “Mr. Tozier, we’re trying to focus across the ha-”

Eddie walked into a chaotic scene. 

Some students were shouting, others were huddled in the back of the room, and Richie Tozier’s sweater sleeve was on fire. He flailed around wildly, slapping at the flames, fruitlessly trying to extinguish them. Eddie, although not always level-headed when faced with an emergency, was prepared for such an event. This was his moment to shine. Quickly, he scanned the classroom and spotted the fire extinguisher on the wall. Why nobody had grabbed it already, he didn’t know. Perhaps in the panic, common sense had abandoned the students as it had abandoned Mr. Tozier countless years before. Eddie rushed the extinguisher to the front of the room and tactfully deployed it, shooting white foam at Mr. Tozier’s flaming sweater. The small fire died almost instantly and Richie groaned in relief, folding over and laying his head on his lab table. He breathed heavily, obviously relieved. The screaming, from both the teacher and the students, had ceased and the room was silent. The students slowly calmed down, bashfully returning to their seats and looking at Eddie in awe. 

“Thanks, Mr. Kaspbrak,” a few students muttered.

“Thanks, Mr. Kaspbrak,” Richie said, catching his breath, his forehead still on the table. 

Eddie looked the classroom over, making sure everything was okay. “Yep. Keep it down in here. We’re trying to write.”

\-----

With a cup of coffee in hand, a book on his lap, and his feet up on an ottoman, Eddie relaxed in the teacher’s lounge. He had finished grading papers for the day and was about to head home for the night. First, however, he took a moment for himself. The lounge was empty and the radio played quietly as he read and unwound. 

His solitude was soon interrupted by the squeak of the door opening. Eddie looked up and sighed the moment he saw the charred sweater sleeve of the intruder. 

“Good afternoon, Mr. Tozier,” Eddie said, his eyes returning to his book. 

“Good afternoon? What are you, a civil war reenactor?”

Eddie had participated in a civil war reenactment a few years ago, but he’d never tell Richie for fear of eternal torment. “Just trying to keep it professional.”

Richie plopped down in the chair next to him. “Sure. What’cha reading?”

“ _Papillon_ ,” Eddie told him.

“Never heard of it.”

“It’s a true story about a French guy escaping from prison.”

“Cool.”

“Yeah.”

Richie sat in silence, staring at Eddie. As much as being fire-extinguished sucked, he hadn’t hated the idea of Eddie coming to his aid. He had been distracted by the fire, but he was sure that Mr. Kaspbrak, the hot English teacher from across the hall, making a daring rescue must have been a sight to behold. 

“Thanks for putting me out earlier.”

“Sure,” Eddie said, not even looking at Richie. He wanted to ignore him so badly. He didn’t want to let Richie’s infectious, amazing personality get under his skin. But he couldn’t help being concerned. He dog-eared his book page and turned to face Richie. “Are you okay?” 

Richie smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, I’m fine. My arm hair got a little seared, but there’s plenty of it to go around.”

“Good,” Eddie said with a nod.

“You know, I owe you one now,” Richie reasoned, leaning back in his chair and grinning.

Eddie laughed. “Yeah, I guess you do. How does keeping it down during my silent reading time sound?”

Richie shook his head. “I can’t promise that, Eds. I’m a man of science. Anything else?”

“Um… maybe you could take over my detention duty tomorrow?”

“Can’t. I’ve got a hot date.”

Eddie squinted, doubtful. “Yeah? With who?”

Richie playfully hit Eddie’s shoulder. “With you, of course! That’s my final offer. I’ll make it up to you with a date, Eddie Spaghetti.”

“What?” Eddie tried to make sense of what he was hearing. “First of all, don’t call me that. Second, no. No, no, no. This is a strictly professional relationship.”

Richie laughed and scooted closer to Eddie. “Come on, I know you’re into me.”

“You’re wrong!” Eddie stood up, looking at Richie incredulously. “You’re wrong, I’m absolutely not interested in anything more than a friendship with you.”

Richie looked up at him, doubtful.

Eddie tried desperately to convince him. “It’s true! Why would I ever go on a date with you and your stupid jokes? Your corny sweaters? Your… c-cute hair?”

“My what?”

Eddie sighed in defeat, accepting what he had just said. “Your cute hair. And your pretty eyes. Yes, I’ll go out with you.”

Richie grinned wildly. “I knew it.”

“You did.”

“I’m a smart science man.”

“Is that what it says on your diploma?”

\-----

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!! feel free to comment ideas for more oneshots:)


	3. you’re a work of art (young adult reddie)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> richie is a struggling comedian in nyc. eddie is an art student. they both frequent museums and happed to love the same painting. cuteness ensues.

Being an unknown comedian in New York City defined Richie Tozier’s existence. By day, he’d explore Manhattan. By night, he’d play shitty open mics and pray that he didn’t bomb. Richie wasn’t particularly religious, but he needed ways of calming his nerves. Prayer, meditation, drinking, whatever works. He’d struggled with anxiety since childhood, and leaving himself bared in front of a crowd was far from helpful. However, he’d found ways of combating his stress.

One of his favorite relaxing activities was going to art museums. If you told Richie’s mother that her son frequented galleries, she’d laugh in your face. If you persisted and assured her it was true, she’d call him immediately and make sure he was okay. Had he hit his head? Was he getting enough sleep? In reality, Richie was just fine. It was just something about the near silence and the beautiful artwork that made him feel grounded in a way he never had before. It was only twenty-five dollars to get into the Metropolitan Museum of Art and Richie went at least once a week. 

None of his friends ever accompanied him. Sure, he’d never asked them to join in, but Richie was sure they would laugh. His crowd was made up of boisterous comedians and jackasses from his improv group. Richie fit in; he was somewhat of a boisterous jackass himself. Nevertheless, he needed space sometimes, and wandering the halls of a world-renowned art museum did the trick.

On a cold Monday morning, Richie slowly awoke to the sound of sirens on the street below. He groaned, rubbed his eyes, and sat up, swinging his legs to the floor. After a moment, he stood and began to get ready for the day. His apartment was affectionately called “the shitbox” by his friends, and for good reason. It was barely large enough for the bed, dresser, and small kitchen it housed. Attached was a small bathroom frequented by roaches. His neighbors were far from quiet and his only window provided the luxurious view of a brick wall. Classy.

Once he was put together, he took a look in the mirror. He had donned an army green corduroy jacket over his brown turtleneck sweater, a pair of ripped black jeans, and dark boots. He nodded at his reflection, satisfied. After checking the weather, he added a knit hat and a scarf to his look, then headed to the museum. 

\---

Richie stood silently, entranced by his favorite piece: Claude Monet’s _The Water Lily Pond_. Vibrant greens and pinks came together to create a stunning river filled with flowers. Reeds sprouted from either side. A weeping willow hung over the water. Through it all ran a bridge. Richie didn’t know why he was so drawn to the painting. He liked the bridge in particular. It made him feel warm. It made him feel happy and loved with no idea why. Perhaps he had visited it in another life. 

“Is this your favorite?”

“For sure,” Richie said as he turned around. He was greeted with the handsome, grinning face of a young man. The stranger was taking in the painting too and with just as much intensity. 

“Same,” the stranger said. He slowly sat down on the bench next to him. “It’s just so… beautiful. Serene, maybe? I don’t know. It makes me smile.”

Richie nodded, bewildered. He felt like he knew this guy, but couldn’t place him. “Exactly, yeah.” He scanned the stranger: a cropped, precise haircut. A plain gray hoodie under a burgundy jacket. A backpack. A pair of pristine blue jeans. Worn-out sneakers populated with doodles. Richie’s brow furrowed. “Do I know you?”

“I don’t think so,” the stranger said, diverting his attention from the painting and looking up at Richie. “I’m Eddie.”

“Richie.” 

The two shook hands. Just like the painting, Eddie made Richie feel warm. 

_Stop it, you sap. You’ve known him for literally two seconds._

He couldn’t help it. Eddie made him happy. 

“What are you doing here?” Richie motioned to the bench.

Eddie nodded, giving Richie permission to sit. He shrugged off his backpack and pulled it onto his lap. “I have to draw something for homework.”

Richie chuckled, sitting down. “I haven’t drawn something for homework since second grade.”

“I’m an art student,” Eddie explained.

Richie smiled. “That’s… so cool. God, I wish I was that talented.”

Eddie cocked an eyebrow. “Well, what do you do? Are you in college?”

“Not exactly,” Richie said, adjusting his glasses. “I’m a… well, I’d like to call myself a comedian, but I’m not really picking up any steam.”

“Jeez, that’s awesome!” Eddie turned to face Richie, setting his bag on the ground and pulling his legs off the ground. Criss-cross applesauce. “The courage it takes to get up in front of a crowd like that? God. Wow.”

Richie smiled bashfully. “Thanks.”

The two looked back up at the painting. Eddie didn’t want to admit it, but he’d rather look at Richie than _The Water Lily Pond_. After a moment of silence, he looked back to his new companion.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Richie replied, meeting Eddie’s gaze.

“I have to draw something,” Eddie reminded him. Richie nodded.

“You sure do.”

“Can I draw… you?”

Richie’s mouth went dry. He looked into Eddie’s big brown eyes and melted. “Y-yeah, sure,” he practically whispered. 

Eddie smiled. “Great, um… go stand right there.” He pointed to the floor in front of the bench and stood up. Richie complied. Eddie walked to the side and sized up his subject: Richie’s profile looking at Monet’s _The Water Lily Pond_. 

“Perfect,” Eddie said with a smile. He pulled a sketchpad and pencil from his backpack, returned to his vantage point, and began to draw.

\---

“Eddie, I’m fucking hungry.”

“One second, I’m almost done,” Eddie laughed, adding the finishing touches to his drawing.

“I can’t feel my legs.”

“Yes, you can, you big baby.” 

It had only been thirty minutes, but Eddie felt like he’d known Richie for a lifetime. Their conversation was effortless and Richie made him feel things he couldn’t describe with words. He could only use his art, and so he did. 

“Done,” Eddie announced and put his pencil in his pocket. Richie let out a farcical groan and withered to the floor dramatically. Eddie laughed and returned to the bench. “Do you want to see it or not?

“I do, it’s my dying wish,” Richie said, his voice comically frail as he crawled to the bench and got Eddie laughing again. He pulled himself up and took a seat, leaning towards Eddie and looking at the sketchbook.

“Holy shit,” Richie muttered as he took it in. There he was, on the paper. And there was his favorite painting. And there were swirls and stars and undefinable shapes in the air emanating from Richie and from the artwork on the wall. And it was beautiful. “Eddie…”

“Do you like it?” Eddie looked at him, nervous.

“Eddie… this is incredible. I literally might cry.”

“Really?”

“No, I’m not a pussy.”

Eddie laughed, breaking the tension. “Well, I’m glad.”

Richie looked at the floor. He didn’t know what to do, but he had to do something. He had to see Eddie again. 

“Hey, so… I’ve seen you do your thing. Do you want to come see me do mine?

“Hm?” Eddie pivoted to face Richie, closing his sketchbook. 

Richie met his gaze. “I have a show tonight. It’s my first time headlining, actually, and… I’d love for you to be there.”

Eddie smiled. “Richie… I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

\-----

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading, comment what you’d like to see next!! mwah!! have a good day!!


End file.
